


Front Row Seat

by ArcadeSummers



Series: Somewhere Down That Road [4]
Category: My Own Private Idaho (1991)
Genre: Feelings, Frottage, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, They’re just having a good time, just two dudes being gay, just two guys being dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 17:26:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19706056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcadeSummers/pseuds/ArcadeSummers
Summary: “So, tell me about this Helen,” Mike said. “Why’s she so important?”“She was thought to be the most beautiful woman in the world. An entire war was waged over her and countless men died in her honor.”Mike snorted humorlessly and rolled his eyes. It wasn’t at all a metaphor for the life he’d lived up to that point, but moreover, he was hardly even remotely as attractive as someone worth dying for.“No one has ever fought for me in my whole life, Scott.” Scott turned to face Mike. He couldn’t blame him, honestly, for thinking so poorly of himself after everything he’d been through. He’d gone to great lengths to ensure that Mike was given his dues for all that Scott had done to him; all the atonement that was owed, but it wasn’t enough to adequately encapsulate the feeling for Mike that’d been growing in his heart. A small, helpless thing that he watered daily.





	Front Row Seat

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been chipping away at this beast of a fic for about a week off and on and I’m quite happy with the end result. I went on a lake trip with a friend of mine last week and had a wonderful time, so I thought... why not send these guys to the lake too? I’m not at all familiar with Portland’s surrounding territories, but I do hope that it isn’t too obscure of a setting. This is also my first time writing a legitimate intimate scene, so I’m sure that aspect could have been conveyed a bit better, but I had to at least try. I thought it would be nice to explore a bit of Scott’s past from my own perspective alongside some “what-ifs.”  
> I hope I nailed their characterization well enough, too, while fleshing out the steady evolution of their relationship. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Scotty, hey! Wake up, Scott.”

Scott groaned and rolled over onto his stomach away from the offensive noise from above. What time was it, anyway?

“Scott, c’mon! You said you had someplace you wanted to take me today.”

Scott channeled his only reserved energy into the most convincing scowl he could manage, which wasn’t much considering his current state, and flipped himself over to face Mike from below. He was wearing the biggest shit-eating grin he’d ever seen on his otherwise cherubic face, the bastard. Scott had fallen asleep to a movie on TV the night before with Mike tucked firmly against his side on the sofa. Scott was never too fond of silly fantasies, but he had to admit that seeing Bowie sing his heart out in the tightest spandex known to humankind was nothing if not amusing. Moreover, Mike’s laughter was more than enough to convince him to see it through for as long as he possibly could. When was the last time he’d heard him _really_ laugh, anyway? _That_ was a living magic that he could see with his own two eyes.

“God, what time is it, anyway?” Scott blinked away the remaining sleep and rose to stretch his back.

“It’s half-past noon!” Mike chirped, “You were dead to the world, so I just ate some cereal.” Scott frowned and sniffed deeply, facing Mike more clearly.

“Hey uh, bend down for a sec, will ya?”

Mike shrugged and bent over the sofa back right into Scott’s face and breathed. “Yeah, man?”

“Nothin’, just... how many cups of coffee have you had, exactly?”

“I’ve had... two! The first time I forgot to try the new creamer you got, so I had another.”

That would explain why Mike was behaving just shy of an exuberant pup. Scott had made well on his word to seeing that Mike sought treatment for his narcolepsy and had been medicated accordingly. Scott also insisted that if Mike were to live with him, he’d have to remain clean from substance usage, which had proven more difficult than he’d initially hoped. He hadn’t realized just how affected Mike had been from going so long using street drugs as a means to cope with his disorder. Nevertheless, he’d been clean for nearly three months and was far more vibrant than Scott had ever seen him. Mike was a different person when he was well; dirty blonde hair that framed his face like a halo of gold in the light, bright complexion clear of the former filth of a life on the street, and apparel that actually fit him now that he had gained some healthy weight back onto his bones from a diet of more than table scraps.

Though... he couldn’t help but fear he created a new monster. Caffeine? Really?

Scott sighed deeply before he allowed a smile to ease its way onto his face. It wasn’t hard these days when Mike was around.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Michael Waters, you hear me?”

Mike beamed at this before wordlessly vaulting over the back of the couch and into Scott’s space; playfully beating his forearm and wriggling until he was in Scott’s lap, but never withholding his joyful taunting. Scott kicked his legs outward and leaned back to bear the brunt of Mike’s force, aiming a halfhearted elbow into his ribs, before caving in altogether with a throaty laugh. Scott pulled Mike down to his chest and Mike allowed it greedily, burying his face into Scott’s collarbone and snorting a giggle. A _giggle._ Scott eased his grip enough to press his lips to Mike’s temple with a mumble, “You’re an idiot, Mikey, and I fucking love you.”

Mike’s eyes widened and he didn’t dare meet Scott’s eyes. Instead he lay still, relaxed, and allowed the weight of his words to burrow their way into his skin. He never quite let them reach his heart, though; it was a fool’s venture to dream with their relationship being as tenuous as it was. In the months that they were reacquainted, Scott had made strides to ensure that Mike was well-cared for. After establishing a proper sleep schedule in conjunction with his narcolepsy treatment, he was able to secure a part-time job working at a local animal shelter like he intended. The animals didn’t judge him, nor did his few fellow associates who were aware of his position. A low-stress job was perfect for him even at the expense of Scott’s bellyaching over the smell of dog shit and animal hair all over his clothing. He’d suffered worse, he supposed, while working on the street and living with the other drifters. Mike was worth it to him, but he still had trouble believing he was worthy of Scott’s time. Still, being as close to him as Scott had been allowing was the highlight of this entire venture. He didn’t know how meaningful mundane actions could be until he began living alone with Scott, but now they were all that he craved. How long would he belong to this hungry thing inside of him?

“You okay, Mike?”

Mike inhaled sharply before raising his head to meet Scott’s eyes. “Yeah, totally! So uh, where we going? When’re we heading out?”

“Ha, well, wouldn’t you like to know?”

Scott quirked his eyebrows up till they met his fringe, no less accompanied by a devilish glint in his eyes. He patted Mike’s back before motioning for him to rise to his feet. Clambering from the couch, Scott stretched his shoulders before taking to the stairs.

“Be right back, man!”

Mike shrugged, pacing the now-empty den. Whatever Scott had planned for them, he hoped it didn’t involve another surprise trip to a doctor’s office. Scott had insisted Mike also get his teeth checked, much to his chagrin, and found that he had quite a few cavities that needed tending to. Fortunately enough, Scott gladly shouldered a portion of the dues alongside a program that accommodated patients with lower incomes.

A few moments later, he heard the scuffling of quick footfalls down the stairs; Scott with a travel bag on his shoulder. This was new.

“Alright, I think we’re good to go. Your chariot awaits, Mister Waters.”

“You’re still not gonna tell me where we’re going, huh?”

Not a chance! It’s kind of a surprise... you and I both don’t get outside nearly enough and the weather’s perfect today. I think it’s about time I introduced you to one of my favorite spots.”

Scott seemed jovial enough, and this place being his favorite was enough to grab Mike’s attention immediately. Mike shrugged and followed his lead outside of their home and to the car. _Their_ home; another concept that Mike had yet to wrap his head around. He actually had a _home_ to leave and come back to anytime he wanted. His heart still skipped a beat at the thought and he wondered what power that be allowed it to happen.

A long stretch of road lay before them outside of the subdivision they lived in. They passed occasional houses along the way, but most of the land was populated by trees and other plant life—a departure from the city they were used to.

“I never really pegged you as the outdoorsy type, Scotty. What makes this place so special?”

Scott remained focused on the road, unwaveringly, before allowing a leveled intake of breath.

“We used to come out here a lot when my folks and I were, ya know, _actually_ happy.”

Mike looked at him, then. Scott was always careful to avoid talking about his family. He assumed that the nature of his relationship with his father was always just naturally dysfunctional, so it was difficult to imagine Scott ever thinking anything fond of his father at all.

“Heh, I vaguely remember mom being all excited to come out here, ‘You keep me perched all pretty like some China doll. I’m not gonna break, you know!’ she’d say.”

Scott chuckled as he spoke and remembered his mother. He must’ve had a better relationship with her than his father, Mike figured. But where was she now? He wasn’t sure he should ask; didn’t want to pry for more than Scott was willing to give. He’d been giving Mike a lot lately, even now.

“She sounds like a real character, dude; feisty. Like mother, like son, yeah?”

Scott laughed harder at this enthusiastically. “Right on the money, Mikey, right on the money.”

The drive was closer to an hour in length, but by that time, there was far more of a view than before. Mike made out the distinct shape of running water right outside his window as they approached an even larger body of water before them. A state park, perhaps? Scott pulled over into a small designated parking area before turning to face Mike.

“Well, this is it. I haven’t been here in quite a while, so I don’t know how much has changed, but I doubt it’s much different than I remember it. This place has always been well-looked after.” Scott said, wringing his hands a bit absentmindedly in his lap. Despite the happy lilt in his voice, Mike couldn’t help but feel he was a bit more apprehensive than he was leading on; though, he wasn’t about to state as much.

“This place must be pretty important for you to clear your schedule for. So, are we gonna splash around or not?” Mike stretched his neck and flashed Scott a grin before excusing himself from the car. Scott watched as he left to survey his surroundings that were no less breathtaking than he remembered from his lost youth: An entire valley of trees and rolling hills that sang with the crisp Summer breeze. Scott sighed and ran a hand through his hair. This was for Mike; he deserved to experience this. All he’d known up to this moment were the arid desolation of Idaho and the concrete jungle of Portland. Mike needed to know that there was more to life than that, but Scott needed to _remember_ it.

“Scotty, check it out! The water looks so clear right here.” Mike called from ahead. He was standing by the shore of the lake, sneakers no doubt getting drenched through in his excitement.

“Well hold on, man, don’t take off without me! You still need to throw on some proper threads for this occasion or else you’ll sink like a stone.” Scott shouted, already stripping off his t-shirt and denim. He’d worn his swim trunks beneath, but Mike had no idea to prepare beforehand.

“Oh, uh, I don’t have anything, Scott. We’ve never gone swimming before now, so uh—“

“Already ahead of you, dude. I got you a pair of trunks before coming here.”

“Huh? You knew my size?”

“Uh, yeah, I do your laundry.”

“ _Amelia_ does my laundry.”

“I do your laundry _also_ , Michael.”

Mike scoffed indignantly but relented, grabbing from Scott the pair of casually-colored red trunks before realizing that there was no proper place to change out of his clothing.

“Scott, uh, do you mind maybe...?” Mike sniffed, rolling his shoulders and looking anywhere but at Scott.

“Not at all.” Scott responded, casually as ever, but then realizing his error.

“I mean—! Uh, no, sorry I’ll just—“

It wasn’t at all like Scott to be this antsy, but it sparked a newfound glee in Mike that he couldn’t pin down as to why. Mike laughed at the irony of it all; the great Scott Favor, proud in every facet of his life, somehow undone by the rarity of this moment shared with his best friend. It was never this awkward to be around Mike before, so why now?

“Take it easy, Scott, I’m just giving you hell. I think you deserve it after all this time.” Mike turned on his heel to change and Scott turned his back to him. They’d seen each other nude plenty of times before; had done _gigs_ together, willingly, with and without the involvement of johns. It wasn’t even three months ago when Scott stole the first opportunity he could to taste every inch of Mike’s lips and throat in his reach. It never ceased to amaze Scott how open and pliant Mike became when in his arms. He realized then that he’d only ever barely scratched the surface; had only ever peeled back a single layer of the many that Mike had to offer. It was different and new, this feeling, to _want_.

“Alright, I think we’re ready to rock ‘n roll! You comin,’ Scotty?”

Scott broke from his silent reverie, steeling himself against the pooling apprehension in his stomach long enough to regard Mike with a smile and nod of his head. “You bet, dude! Just don’t get too excited. This water’s freezing and I don’t want a part two to the bathtub incident.”

Mike rolled his eyes and made a bee-line to the water’s edge before treading in headlong without hesitation, whooping at the shock of the frigid cold against his skin.

“Fucking hell, Scott! If I gotta suffer, then so do you!”

Scott couldn’t help but laugh at Mike’s idiocy, the damn fool, wrapping his arms around himself in the water with chattering teeth.

“Alright, alright, I’ll be a good sport and grace you with an entrance.”

Scott took a theatric bow before he too ran into the frigid depths, diving below the surface to Mike’s surprise. Mike looked around for any sign of Scott before he finally resurfaced before him, drenched, and spitting water right into his face with a cackle.

“You’re a sick man, Favor!” Mike wailed, wiping at his eyes and splashing Scott with his free hand to put distance between them.

“Aww, lil’ Mikey not liking the water? Is the temperature _too cold_?” Scott cooed and pressed his face into Mike’s hair despite his reluctance to take the bait; sitting stock-still until finally giving in to the taunts long enough to sink below and disrupt Scott’s footing.

“That was cheap, Mike!”

“Well, you started it!”

And all at once they both erupted into a fit of laughter, splashing wrestling to dunk each other’s heads beneath the water like a couple of mannerless children.

“Alright, alright, I think I’ve— had enough for now,” Mike wheezed, “I’m gonna sit out round three.”

The two of them swam the shallow waters back to the shore and lowered themselves down onto their backs with the sun warming their skin. Their soft breaths filled the space between them and Mike turned to look at Scott. His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell with the evenness of peace. He had the sudden urge to reach out and feel it for himself, just to reaffirm that this wasn’t all a dream, because it was difficult to imagine another moment more perfect than this. Mike was becoming a person he could hardly recognize because so much of Scott now lived within him. The feeling of freshly-laundered clothes, waking in a warm bed (often accompanied by Scott who “ _accidentally”_ fell asleep during that boring TV show), the scent of sharp cologne that clung to his skin whenever he wriggled his way into Scott’s space. It never took much convincing on his behalf as Scott almost always welcomed it with ease. They had yet to place a name to this invisible tether to one another, but the comfort was nevertheless a balm to the wounds they’d suffered. It hadn’t always been so easy to navigate, however.

In the beginning weeks of Mike’s arrival, they’d butted heads on a number of things; most of which were a result of Mike’s distrust toward Scott after all that had transpired. Scott felt the chasm between them open one night when Mike had discovered a piece of Carmella’s clothing stuck between the bed and nightstand _._ Mike never blamed Carmella for Scott’s disingenuous behavior, but it didn’t stop the ache that formed in his chest. There was yelling, tears, and Mike getting worked up enough to pass out after nearly shouting himself hoarse. Despite the intensity of every cell seizing his grip on consciousness, he never forgot the look of pain on Scott’s face; never forgot how much wider the rift between them had opened that night when Scott once again felt the gravity of his betrayal. Much later that evening when Mike was carefully deposited onto his own bed in a spare room, he had just enough clarity to remember a hand softly threading its way through his hair and a kiss pressed to his temple, like a parent would a child.

 _“I know you can’t feel it now,_ _Mike, but someday you will. Someday I’ll dull all the sharp edges that cut you and you won’t have to question why.”_

Scott must have thought he was asleep because he was never quite so forthcoming when he was awake. He walked away, turned off the light and left Mike be. Tears escaped his eyes until they devolved into quiet sobs that soaked the fabric of the down pillow beneath his head.

Mike made a silent vow to have a little more faith in Scott.

“Dad always hated driving out all this way, but he knew it made mom happy and that made it worth the effort.” Scott spoke and the moment was lost. Mike raised his eyebrows and shook off the ensuing wave of tiredness that’d begun to wash over him in the calm.

“What was she like? Mike asked. “You know, your mom. Do you remember?”

Scott sighed and averted his gaze, instead fixating on the clouds that formed above them.

“She was short, beautiful, and had more confidence than she knew what to do with. Drove my father half-crazy, but she always found a way to make him laugh about it afterward. She was kinda the balance in the house and kept me from getting swept away in dad’s agenda. She didn’t want me to turn out like him.”

“Heh, you mean pompous and boring?” Mike snorted. A smile slowly spread across Scott’s face. “Nah, man. I mean... alone, I guess.”

Mike’s face fell and the hand that lay between he and Scott twitched with apprehension. Mike swallowed before he willed himself to ask, “What happened to her? Your mom?”

Scott pinched his eyes shut before opening them again and blinking as if to stave off an emotion he wasn’t prepared to feel. “She died when I was just on the cusp of seven years old. She had an autoimmune disease that attacked her liver and killed her. Worst part about it was that she was only in her late twenties.”

Scott said it as if he were talking about where to eat dinner or what the weather was like, but the look in his eyes belied his true feelings. He’d never looked so far away before now. Mike had never truly known his mother, but he still felt the loss of her; still felt a pain in his chest whenever he tried to form the angles of her face or the sound of her voice or the look of the clothing she wore. The closest he ever got were shitty photos from his brother and parts of other women’s faces that he’d piece together in his mind to create an image that would never feel adequate enough.

Mike scooted closer to Scott on his side, then, and chanced lying his head just shy of his shoulder in case he were denied. The denial never came and instead Scott turned his own head to lie against Mike’s. It was as good of an invitation as any, so Mike took the initiative in resting his hand atop Scott’s chest.

“Do you feel alone, Scott?” It was an honest question that was meant more

to allow openness than to resurface anything painful.

“How can I, man? You’re right here.”

“Yeah, but—“

“You’re _always_ right here, huh? You don’t give me time to feel lonely.”

Mike weighed the gravity of his words. He felt like he was on the cusp of something heavy and nearly theatrical in its grandeur. Scott nudged Mike’s forehead with his own, urging him to meet his eyes, until they were practically nose-to-nose. Mike nearly went cross-eyed from how close they were and Scott could only laugh; though, it had taken on a different tone than before. It was deeper, richer, like someone who held a secret they couldn’t wait to spill. Scott reached for the hand that remained at his chest and held it firmly as he maneuvered himself onto his side; never breaking his view of Mike, who looked a little less than a deer that locked eyes with its hunter.

“Feelin’ all right there, Scotty?” Mike forced a laugh from his dry throat.

“Never better, pal, and yourself?”

“I guess I’ve seen better days.”

Scott looked genuinely surprised at this and put a minimal amount of distance between his face and Mike’s, then.

“Oh, yeah? Care to elaborate?”

Mike swallowed audibly and averted his gaze, suddenly feeling very warm.

“I uh, I don’t—I don’t know, uh. Do you ever... I don’t know. Do you ever think about that night when we kissed and you... you—“

“—When I what? I don’t know, Mike. I’ve slept since then. Maybe you ought to remind me or—or maybe I ought to jog your memory?”

Scott leaned into Mike’s face once again, closer still, until his lips barely grazed the spot where his jaw met his ear. Mike shuddered and tore his hand from its place on Scott’s chest and instead gripped his forearm. Scott halted entirely, swallowing, before he continued, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do, Mike, but—“

“—I can’t stop thinking about it, either. It’s—it’s eating me up inside and I’m tired, I’m just, _tired_ of feeling and wanting and having the chair pulled out and falling on my ass, you know? You get that.”

Mike’s voice wavered and he felt Scott nod against his cheek, lips wandering the planes of his jaw before resting on the corner of his lips.

“I know, Mike, and I’m sorry and I do want to do this properly, but I don’t—I don’t know how.”

Mike’s shoulders tensed and he loosened his grip on Scott’s arm to roam his shoulder, then to his neck. He twirled a few of the dark strands with his thumb, still damp from swimming, before threading them within his fingers, down to Scott’s scalp.

Scott braced himself on his forearms above Mike, and looked down; anxiously indulging in just the feeling of Mike’s hand in his hair.

“What do you want, Mike?” A soft plea.

Mike laughed, then, pulling gently at Scott’s head to lower him back down until they were again nose-to-nose, breathing the same air. In a beat, Scott felt lips against his, slowly at first, then with an openness that he didn’t realize how much he missed.

Scott grew bolder, pressed harder, until Mike’s head touched the grass and he felt his tongue graze his bottom lip to seek permission.

“I think I just really wanna kiss you, man.”

Act One begins.

They were both at least three shades of red by that point, chuckling richly, when Scott slid his hand beneath Mike’s head.

“I think that can be arranged.”

Scott closed the space between them once again, eagerly drinking in every bit of Mike that he’d allow, while sliding the tips of his fingers from Mike’s side to his hip and in between them. He relished the feeling of his skin and wondered just how it managed to retain its softness after such a life on the street and in the arms of careless people. Mike’s hands wound around Scott’s back to press them chest-to-chest, impossibly close, but delighting in the weight of him. He broke from the kiss and a whine escaped his lips, stoking the heat in Scott’s blood like a match on oil. Mike felt the tension mount and the sweat bead on his forehead and throat; equal parts from the burning rays of sunshine and the thrill of their act. Scott laved at them greedily like a man starved and Mike felt pressure in his eyes, but would not allow it to manifest. He closed his eyes and spread his legs further apart beneath Scott’s own and aligned their hips until he could no longer tell where he began and Scott ended. Scott reluctantly paused his pursuit of Mike’s neck long enough to look him in the eyes, hair disheveled and heart racing. Mike was trembling fiercely in his embrace and raised a hand. He swallowed hard before speaking, “Scott, I want—I want you, I do, but—“

Scott moved the hand wedged between them and reached for Mike’s own, which Mike accepted with meritoriously inhuman speed. He had a deceptively firm grip that honestly hurt, but Scott refused to acknowledge it. Whatever Mike needed, Scott was prepared to give. In another life, he would’ve cursed himself for thinking about how striking Mike was in this light with all of his features aglow without the protection of night. He would’ve scrubbed every trace of fear from his face if he could.

Could he still?

Mike trembled beneath him in a wash of anxiety and the last thing Scott wanted was for him to pass out in fear during such a vulnerable moment. How could he respect Mike’s agency will preserving his dignity about this entire thing? He couldn’t be sure, so instead, he simply spoke.

“Would it help if I talked to you, Mike?”

Mike breathed in and finally met Scott’s eyes after a long moment.

“Yeah... keep talking. I can’t guarantee, but I think it helps. I like— I like hearing your voice.”

Scott chuckled. “As if you could ever shut me up, anyhow.”

“Heh, I have a few ideas on how that could be arranged.”

Mike’s hold on Scott’s hand had already loosened and slipped from his grasp when he found that same hand meet the back of his neck, pulling Scott back down to trail a string of kisses onto his shoulder, just barely grazing it with his teeth. The implication wasn’t at all lost on Scott, newly reinvigorated by the feeling of Mike relaxing beneath his weight.

“I wouldn’t get too comfortable if I were you, Mikey,” Scott rasped against his ear. “Wouldn’t want you to miss out.”

Scott ran a hand down Mike’s side to the curve of his hip and pulled, urging him to move his leg. Mike bent his knee to hook an ankle between Scott’s legs and arching upward just so to acknowledge his intent.

It was all the permission Scott needed before tucking his other hand under the small of Mike’s back and giving an experimental push of his own waist against Mike’s. He could feel the length of him hardening against his own and it was all the affirmation he needed before rutting against Mike as if he were born for it. Mike exhaled shakily; coherence lost to a moan that he amplified to stoke the urgency surging through their bodies. Mike screwed his eyes shut, bringing an arm to his mouth to stifle his whines, but Scott was having none of it. He reached for Mike’s wrist, grip on his hips not fully withstanding, and paused long enough to coax his arm downward and turn his cheek to look him in the eyes.

“Please don’t, Mike, I—I like it; I like hearing you, too.”

“You would— _ugh—_ wouldn’t you? Like hearing me beg ‘cause you think you’re irresistible.”

“I don’t know, man, you’re looking pretty irresistible right now if you ask me.”

Scott nipped at Mike’s shoulder and wrenched another whine from Mike’s throat; admiring the way that the muscles in his neck twitched along with his ministrations like Mike’s entire being couldn’t contain it.

Mike raised his hips, once again seeking that delicious friction Scott had initiated not moments before, but Scott remained still save for his lips exploring the planes of his collarbone right down to a nipple.

Mike centered his feet on either side of Scott’s legs to support his pursuit, all but writhing against Scott to just _do something_. Even during sex, he couldn’t refrain from making Mike’s life a living hell.

“I swear to God, Scott, if you don’t do something I’m gonna—“

Scott sat up and pinned Mike’s wrist beside his head and used the other to hoist Mike’s legs higher. Mike took the hint and wrapped his ankles around Scott’s thighs. Scott seized the opportunity to pluck at the waistband of Mike’s swim trunks and pull downward, doing the same with his own, until they were both free of the offensive material. Scott actually _did_ move then and Mike could’ve wept at the contact. Mike moved his body to meet Scott’s thrusts; undulating in a dance that was both foreign and familiar. He wasn’t used to dragging out these acts; wasn’t accustomed to the lust licking every cell in his body until he could hardly think straight.

He knew he wouldn’t last, that neither of them would, and his climax came with a sudden ferocity; veins pulsing his blood to butter as a moan was ripped from his throat despite any residual self-consciousness.

Mike felt his world darkening as his head pounded. The sound of his own pulse filled his ears and was entirely too loud to be healthy, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a single solitary shit. He didn’t know how long he’d blanked out until he felt a hand meet his own and stroke along his inner wrist.

“You still with me, Mikey?”

Scott’s voice was raspy and laced with traces of adoration. Mike would have to tease him about it later because he’d never known Scott to sound so damn warm. But then again, nothing about either of them were the same, he supposed.

“Yeah... yeah, you’ve got me, Scott. Sucks to be you.”

Scott pinched his wrist.

“Ow! Hey, knock it off.”

“ _You_ knock it off. I can’t think of any other dumbass I’d rather be stuck with.”

“I don’t know, Scotty. I mean, there are a lot of dumbasses out there. Portland’s a big place.”

“Sure, but not all of them have bright blue eyes and hair like Helen of Troy.”

“Do you always make no sense after getting off or is this a special occasion?”

Scott laughed and sat upright to look out at the lake, still void of any other occupants in their view. The sun was just beginning to set and the sound of chirping crickets could be heard. Mike rose up, too, despite the ache in his muscles from lying on uneven ground for so long. He brought his knees to his chest and rested his chin atop them.

“So, tell me about this Helen,” Mike said. “Why’s she so important?”

“She was thought to be the most beautiful woman in the world. An entire war was waged over her and countless men died in her honor.”

Mike snorted humorlessly and rolled his eyes. It wasn’t at all a metaphor for the life he’d lived up to that point, but moreover, he was hardly even remotely as attractive as someone worth dying for.

“No one has ever fought for me in my whole life, Scott.” Scott turned to face Mike. He couldn’t blame him, honestly, for thinking so poorly of himself after everything he’d been through. He’d gone to great lengths to ensure that Mike was given his dues for all that Scott had done to him; all the atonement that was owed, but it wasn’t enough to adequately encapsulate the feeling for Mike that’d been growing in his heart. A small, helpless thing that he watered daily.

“Well... what if I wanted to?” Scott asked.

“ _Die_ for me?”

“No, live for you; live _with_ you, like we have been. I still want you to stay... I kinda like seeing you well and not smelling like a gutter rat, you know.”

Mike punched Scott’s shoulder playfully at that before scooting into his space. Scott grabbed one of the beach towels he’d brought along with them and draped it over their legs.

“It’s not like you smelled much better when you were still hustling, y’know.”

“Heh, yeah, you’re definitely right about that, Mikey.”

Silence crept into the space between them, but it wasn’t unwelcome. Mike lay his head on Scott’s shoulder as the exhaustion finally began to set in his bones.

“I think your mom was right about you, you know, about you not ending up alone. Your dad must’ve been real lonely by himself in that house.”

Scott chewed on that thought for a moment before responding. “Yeah, one thing that he was good at was alienating people. I like to think I got to see a piece of the ‘real’ him when we were all out here, but by the time we left, I never could tell which one was which.”

“I wish I knew if my mom had ever worried about me the way that yours did,” Mike began, a little somberly. “I know it wasn’t a real long time, but... I bet there’s a lot of love you can pack into a whole seven years.”

Scott felt the hot sting of tears prickle at his eyes, but he wouldn’t allow them to fall. If Mike could see them forming, he didn’t acknowledge it. 

“Yeah, she really did, man. I miss her like hell some days. I think your mom was a damn fool, really.” Scott said with not a hint of remorse and caring even less about his tone. “She left behind a treasure.”

Mike felt his own eyes begin to well with tears and he reached up with one hand to scrub them away nonchalantly. 

“You think?”

“Yeah, I know so. Any other mother would’ve been thrilled to have you as a son.”

Mike did cry then, a broken little thing that he tried in vain to stifle against Scott’s neck. Scott wrapped his arm around Mike’s shoulder and pulled him closer to rest his own head against his.

“I’m no doctor, but whatever the hell went wrong in her head never touched you, Mikey. You’re a good guy and she’s really missing out on the sight of you. Luckily for me, I’ve got the best seat in the house.”

Mike raised his head and smiled despite his reddened face. He kissed Scott’s cheek and reclaimed his resting place. 

“Thanks, Scott.”

The curtain closes.

Act One ends.

  
  



End file.
